Speaking Softly
by Tag Dagwood
Summary: A storyline that focuses more on the political intrigue and the lives of the ordinary people in a very different mass effect universe. Think more "House of Cards" and less "Saving Private Ryan" There WILL be action, don't worry about that, but that's not what the story will be focusing on. Be warned, very AU. Rated M 'cause it's gonna get heavy later on.
1. Chapter 1

_**Speaking Softly**_

A/N **_Hey there! This is my first time posting to Fanfiction, so please expect a few mistakes here and there. When I say "A few mistakes here and there" I actually mean "This will be full of horrible errors. Please be nice and tell me so that I can fix them." _**

**_If any of you more expirianced folk out there have some advice for me PLEASE, for the love of god, let me know. I am a Bambi to your Scar, I am the Karate Kid to your Mister Miyagi. I am the novice window washer to your somewhat-more-experienced window washer. _**

If you were to enter the Widow Nebula, you would first be struck by the strange, primitive beauty of the billowing purple clouds of slowly cooling gases and superheated particles. You would stare at the seemly endless expanse of it's fantastical existence and wonder at the sheer largeness and eternity of it all. If you were to look around for awhile, you would probably spot a suspicious glimmer enclosed within the nebulous folds, and you would wonder just what it was. If you were to look just a bit closer, you would see that it whatever it was, it was not natural. You might notice that it looked a bit like a flower. A strange sort of geometric tulip. If you moved a bit closer, it's shape would become more apparent. A strange metallic flower nestled between the billows of the nebula, slowly rotating in a beautiful, haunting, lonely dance.

If you decided to move a bit closer, you would see a few other shapes floating around this strange structure. Not so lonely after all. You would slowly realise that these shapes were also moving in straight, orderly lines. Ships.

As you get closer, you notice more and more of them. Soon there are hundreds… thousands. Most coming and going, others are stationary, keeping silent, watchful guard over the others in this odd little pocket of apparent civilization. Inevitably though, your eyes would be drawn back to the flower. Only now would you realise it's sheer immensity, it dwarfs the ships, making even the largest of them seem like the tiniest speck of dust. Now you realize that the inside side of each pedal is brightly lit with the lights of sprawling urbia in stark contrast to the smooth, featureless hull that you have seen so far. The massive skyscrapers still seem small when compared to the station that they rest on. But if you were to drift toward the center, to where all of the pedals connected, you would find a smooth, towering spire reaching confidently, boldly, towards the heavens, and if you were to approach the top of this spire, you would see two people silhouetted by the bright lights of the room. It would seem to you that these two people were having a heated discussion.

An argument, even. Then, after a final dismissive gesture, one of the figures would turn and look out the window, seemingly in your direction.

Counselor Kasden watched Councilor Tevos, watching the window. She always did when she was thinking. It was clear that she still needed convincing.

"It just seems like we're making something out of nothing." Tevos said, turning away from the window. "And I still don't understand why we aren't involving Counselor Quentius in this discussion." She strode over to her gigantic metal desk and poured herself a drink from the tumbler of fine hanar liquor. Counselor Kasden blinked his large salarian eyes at her from his seat before responding.

"You know that Councilor Quintus has enough on his mind with all the separatist antics going on in The Hierarchy." He said as he rose from his seat. "Besides, it's best that a difficult situation like this be left to people of discretion. People who understand diplomacy." he strode over to Tevos and poured himself his own drink. "People like us." he lightly clinked his glass against hers. Tevos raised the asari equivalent of an eyebrow.

"What are you playing at, Kasden? What are you trying to hide from Quintus?"

Kasden blinked again and smirked.

"Think, Tevos. Elcor ships that have been at the same stations for decades suddenly up and leave, all going in the same direction. Now why would they do that?" Still wary of her associate, Tevos responded, the wheels turning behind her calm, neutral face.

"It's not a round of upgrades, because they aren't going towards their core worlds. It's not aid for some sort of disaster or they would have told us about it, and it's not a police action because they're elcor." She paused to take a pull from her glass.

"So what would you guess it is?" Prompted Kasden. Tevos thought for a moment longer before answering. "... They found something. Something worth mobilising a third of their military over, but not worth notifying us."

Kasden smiled. He had her now. All he had to do was keep her thinking in the right direction.

"But what would that be?" asked Tevos. "A prothean ruin would warrant the ship deployment, but they would certainly tell us about it. It's law, and they know that your STG would find out soon anyway, so why are they playing for time?"

Kasden gave her another nudge in the right direction. "My agents have already been able to gain access to a few elcor field reports. They were heavily encrypted, but dealing with that didn't take long. Numerous references are made to something the elcor are calling 'Ha-Knene.' Which roughly translates into 'traveling salesman.' Strange, isn't it?" Tevos thought on that for a few seconds.

Ancient elcor usually lived in migratory societies. This made bartering for goods extremely important to ensure the survival of the group. Merchants were usually the ones to contact other groups, since trading was usually the first order of business. In a sense, a traveling salesman was the elcor equivalent of a diplomat.

Suddenly it dawned on her. "First contact. They found a new species." Kasden could barely contain his sigh of relief. Gods, it had taken her so long… He wished that he could have just told her, but it was better if she thought that she had figured this out by herself, at least in part. It would be a disaster if she ever figured out just how well- informed he was.

"Precisely! That must be it! The elcor have never had to directly deal with a first contact situation as a government. Their archives hold no advice on how to proceed, so right now the Courts of Dekuuna are debating their next course of action."

Tevos looked back toward the window. "It still doesn't explain why they haven't told us. The elcor may be conservative, but they are hardly indecisive. They would still notify the Citadel under normal circumstances, so what's different about this situation specifically?"

"That is exactly what I propose we find out." Said Kasden, setting his already forgotten drink down.

"So it looks like we're going to Dekuuna." Said Tevos.

"Us? Going to Dekuuna?" Asked Kasden, plainly taken aback. "Isn't that a bit...heavy- handed? I was hoping for something a bit more discreet." It was Tevos' turn to smirk.

"If this is indeed a first-contact situation, then the elcor are going to need help dealing with it, and who better to do that then Citadel Councillors?" She finished her drink, swilling the last of the dark red liquid down. "Besides, I want to know just why they haven't notified us. I don't appreciate this sort of backroom secrecy from an associate species, I want to show them just who is in charge."

"I suppose you're right. Dekuuna it is, then." Mumbled Kasden. Just as he had planned. "I'll have a cruiser dock with the Presidium immediately." He said and started typing on his omni-tool.

"No." Said Tevos, her voice ringing with authority. "We are Citadel Councillors, we'll be taking the Destiny Ascension and her escort ships!" Kasden couldn't believe his luck, a councillor arriving in person to stick their nose in an associate race's business was one thing, but if that councillor brought the largest warship in the galaxy and half the Citadel fleet? He couldn't ask for more. Now he had to make a token objection. Just for the record

"Are you sure that's wise? That would hardly paint a picture of mutual trust and cooperation. The elcor are our allies, after all." Tevos, of course, ignored this.

"If the elcor want mutual trust and cooperation, then they should have told us about their bloody first-contact scenario!" She was almost shouting. "We leave immediately!"

At that very moment, Kasden's omni-tool began beeping with an urgent message. Just as planned. "Excuse me, Councillor Tevos."

He looked down at it for a moment, pretending to read the message. He let his mouth slowly open, his eyes grow narrow, and his complexion to redden. The classic salarian expression for shock. He collapsed into a nearby chair for good measure. "It's….It's my brother…" He let his voice shake just a bit. "There's been some sort of accident…"

"Goddess, what happened?" Tevos' voice was full of concern. "Is he alright?"

"It would appear that there has been a fire in his apartment block on Sur'Kesh. His condition is still unknown." He breathed heavily for a few seconds before speaking again. "Tevos, if he is dead…" Tevos moved closer to the other councillor. " Oh Kasden...You should go to Sur'Kesh. I know how complex family matters are for salarians. Let me handle this business with the elcor." She rested a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I will be sure to keep you up to date on whatever happens, but you should be with your family now." Kasden nodded and stood up. "Yes.. yes, you're you, Tevos. I should… depart right away." He reached for his overrobe and shuffled toward the door. "Please tell me when you know his condition." Tevos called after him. " Yes… of course. Let me know if you need the services of the STG while I am away." he finally relaxed and smirked as the door closed behind him. The meeting really couldn't have gone better.

3 WEEKS EARLIER

Shi Zhen's eyes fluttered open a few minutes before his alarm went off. Deciding that it wasn't worth going back to sleep, he stared at the ceiling for a few moments before finally getting up. Getting dressed was always an awkward ordeal in such cramped quarters, but Shi was well accustomed to it, and managed to dress himself without banging an elbow on his fold-out cot or his tiny desk. Calling his dwelling a house may have been a bit generous. It was closer to a hut, about the size and shape of a shipping container. Though small, the hut was ingeniously designed. Every bit of furniture, from the stove, to the research desk, could be collapsed and folded into the walls or floor to create more space, making the tiny home actually quite comfortable. This would assume, however, that the occupant actually used these tools to his or her advantage, and Shi Zhen… didn't. Most chairs and tables were deployed and littered with the leavings of Shi's work, plant samples and data logs dominated every spare bit of horizontal space.

Brushing aside a half-dissected stamen and a pair of tweezers, Shi began to make breakfast. Nothing fancy. Some dehydrated noodles with a diced indigenous vegetable thrown is for flavor. Eating indigenous food was technically against protocol, but Shi had grown fond of the small yellow reeds that grew around his house in such abundance, he had begun calling them "nixies." Besides, he had already made perfectly sure that they were safe to eat.

After breakfast, it was time for a radio check-in. It was required for all surveyors to update their sector managers periodically throughout the day.

"This is Outpost 4 to Zentrum, how's the weather up there in the mountains?"

Zentrum was the administrative center for the sector, a small base in the mountains, around 100km from Shi's home in the valley.

"Oh shut up, Outpost 4. It's cold, alright?"

"Roger, Zentrum. Could you please remind me exactly _how _cold?

There was an audible sigh.

"It's -8 degrees celsius… and you're laughing."

"Sorry, Zentrum. It's just hard to imagine when I'm down here in my nice, temperate, river valley." The man Shi was speaking to was David Lenn. He had been on-planet for ever since it was discovered three years ago. Shi had only been here for just under a year.

"I'll be the one laughing when the wet season rolls around again, Outpost 4. By the way, did you ever find your kayak?" Shi chuckled. This was the back-and-forth that he and David had always shared.

"Lost forever to the mighty waters of river 86-B, I'm afraid."

"Maybe you'll find it while gathering samples today."

"I doubt that very much, Zentrum. Have a good one."

Shi broke the connection and took his hand away from his headset. His pack was already in order and waiting for him at the door, it was the one thing that he kept organized, largely because its contents kept him alive whenever he left his hut. Thats not to say that Afua (The large island-continent that Shi Zheng was stationed on,) was a very hostile place, but it was definitely wild and definitely alien. The land was thick with gigantic ferns that were almost as tall as the mighty pines back on Earth, and the air was thick with the shrill calls of the small flying mammals that were common on Afua. Nobody had officially named them yet, but Shi had always referred to them as "minibats" which would do for now. The only real dangers in the fern jungle were dehydration and giant carnivorous turtles that were about the size of a cow, but those were very rare on Afua, and actually quite docile creatures… unless you looked like food.

Remembering this, Shi grabbed the rifle that he was required to take with him whenever he went more than 200 meters from his house. The winchester certainly wasn't enough to kill a turtle if he ran into one, but the noise might help. HIs gear sorted, Shi slowly plodded down the small rise that his house sat on, and into the thick vegetation of the valley proper. His nimble feet easily sidestepping or hopping around and over the roots and rocks of the fern jungle.

Within a few hours, Shi Zhen was a dozen kilometers from his home, taking his final soil sample for the day. He was interrupted by the voice of David Lenn in his earpiece.

"Zentrum to Outpost 4, pick up right the fuck now, Zhen!"

Zhen knew immediately that something was horribly wrong. David was never worried or angry. Ever. It was part professionalism and part lack thereof, but the man always kept his cool.

"Outpost 4 here. What's wrong."

"I just got word from Orb-Sec, apparently there's a damaged ship of some sort heading planetside. Dropped out of FTL right in front of the station, and gravity did the rest. All personnel planetside are to return to their posts." Shi felt a bit bombarded by all of this news.

"It just jumped in? Just like that? No comm burst, nothing on the flight roster? Just like that? Is it civilian or military?" The silence from David's end was just long enough to be noticeable.

"Neather. Apparently the ship profile doesn't match any known configurations, and when they tried to make contact via radio, the translators nearly shit themselves trying to deal with what came back."

"David, are you saying…"

"That this looks an awful lot like a First Contact situation? Orb-Sec seems pretty convinced."

First Contact. Zhen felt like he was going to fall over. After taking a moment to collect himself, he finally responded.

"Roger that, Zentrum. Returning to Outpost 4"

Author's Notes

_**The Atten **_

The atten are a large crustacean species that slightly resemble crabs from Earth. They have a tall, thick body that is supported by eight lobster-like legs. Each atten has a large pincer on their right side, and a much smaller, more delicate appendage on their left side that bares a surprising resemblance to a chiten-covered human hand. Despite their fearsome appearance, atten tend to be quite friendly and social people. Some people even describe the atten as whimsical.

Atten language is a mixture of vocalization and sign language, and though the vocal elements can be easily translated by any Alliance-issue translator, the sign language is taught to all Alliance children in public schools, and tutorial/ reference programs are available for ocular and cranial implants.

Though the atten posses incredible physical strength, and their right pincer can easily bite through wood, atten are rarely violent, and very few ever enlist in the Alliance military. Many view them as the "gentle giants" of Alliance society.

Humanity made contact with the atten in 2131 (Alliance Calendar) only ten years after activating their first mass relay. After colonizing their first few worlds, humanity stumbled upon the atten during a survey scan of the Rhu system. The atten had already developed infantile mass effect technology, and were taking their first tentative steps outside their home system. Humanity debated for weeks over whether to initiate First Contact, but before they could decide, the decision was made for them when an atten ship discovered the probe that humanity had been using to monitor the atten home system. After a very successful first contact, humanity and the atten begin trading everything from raw materials to manufactured goods and cuisine. After sixteen years of good diplomatic relations and mutually beneficial trade, the two species sign what has since been called The Alliance Charter. This effectively creates the "Systems Alliance" as we know it today. Though, it was not officially recognized as such for another decade.

_**The Drell**_

The Systems Alliance found the drell wallowing in the post-industrial wasteland of their homeworld. With the advent of modern industry, their population had risen too high, too quickly, and they had strained their already scarce resources to the breaking point. When The Alliance arrived, there were only a few dozen city-states of drell left on the planet. Apparently, humans and atten were not the only aliens drell had met. All of the city-states had records, and even photographs, of a people who had come from the heavens when the resource crisis was just beginning, and had taken a large number of drell away, never to return. Explanations as to who these aliens were, or why they came, remain scattered and inconsistent. Some say that they trying to save a small part of the drell race from extinction, others say that they were gods who came to claim the worthy and spare them the horror of the resource wars. Whatever the case, today the drell are contributing members of the Systems Alliance, and the drell homeworld of Rakhana is largely deserted, but slowly being rehabilitated. 13% of Alliance parliament are drell. They also, of course, hold the standard two seats in the Species Assembly.

A/N

_**So that's the first chapter. It feels pretty short, I agreen but I kinda wanted this to be more of a set-up chaper. You can expect the next on to be longer. Let me know what you guys thought! If it sucks, please tell me it sucks, but tell me WHY so I can fix it. **_


	2. Chapter 2

Councillor Tevos fixed the currently blank holographic display with a look that could freeze superheated plasma. She knew exactly who was about to call, and it was perhaps the worst part of her entire career. Even on board the Destiny Ascension, the most powerful warship in the galaxy, she still had to play nice to the accountants. Outside the large viewport to her left, the rest of the fleet slowly drifted into formation around the Destiny Ascension. They would be ready to depart soon.

Just as prophesied, the display flicked, stuttered, and eventually morphed into the elegant form of Chairwoman Availa Na' Larri. The woman who thought her job was to keep Tevos from doing her's.

"Esteemed Councilor Tevos, It has been too long since we last spoke." Availa's voice was like that of a condescending grandmother. Old, experienced, and full of passive-aggressive spite. Tevos hated her more than she hated any other being in the galaxy, but it came with the job, apparently. Tevos Cknew it would be easier if she stayed polite for now.

"Chairwoman Na' Larri. Yes, it has been quite a while, hasn't it? How are your granddaughters? I'm told that little Tellian has just turned sixty! You must be so proud!"

"Oh, she prefers 'Telly' now. You know how kids are at that age. She'll be getting a tattoo soon, I expect. Anyway, what the fuck do you think you're doing with the Destiny Ascension? The Board of Republics does not appreciate being left out of the loop like this Tevos."

"So it's like that after all." Thought Tevos. Chairwoman Na' Larri represented the collective interest of the asari republics. Though technically Tevos did not answer to her, the Board of Republics controlled, for the most part, how much asari taxpayer money went to the Citadel. Which, technically, was another thing that she was not supposed to control, but since 43% of the Citadel GDP came from the asari republics alone, certain exceptions had to be made

"Why Availa, certainly there is no need to be so hostile. I can assure you that any worthwhile information obtained during this maneuver will be forwarded to The Board immediately." Availa scoffed in response.

"The Board considers the mobilization of the largest investment that the asari republics have ever made in the Citadel military worthwhile information! Do not play coy with me, girl. What is going on?" Tevos was glad that she was alone in her quarters, it wouldn't do for anyone to hear a Councilor spoken to in such a way.

"Madam Na' Larri. Availa. Please do not mis-"

"Stop ducking the question, Councilor. You have already inconvenienced me enough just by stepping on that ship. I couldn't care less what you do with your toys, but we at The Board expect to be kept informed, lest a mistake be made the next time an allocation meeting rolls around. I think you know what that would mean, don't you?"

Tevos knew exactly what it would mean. It would mean that a big pile of credits didn't go where it was supposed to. That could end in a lot of different ways, and none of them were good. Normally, Tevos would have relented, made some sort of apology, and explained the situation on Dekuuna. Availa would be momentarily satisfied, and she would loom over Tevos' shoulder for the rest of her career, just as she always had. This time, however, something stirred in the back of her mind. It made Availa's words seem distant and inconsequential, It was the reason for Tevos' every mistake and triumph, it was something that she had not felt since she had become a Councilor.

It was ambition.

"That is quite enough, Chairwoman! I have tried to remain civil throughout this conversation, but you are apparently interested in provoking me. You seem to forget who you are speaking to, so I'll remind you. I am the woman who decides whether or not you will have a job tomorrow. I am the woman who decides the fate of nations over my lunch break, and, as you have just stated, I am the woman who is currently sitting on the largest piece of military hardware in known history. Your status as the galaxy's most prestigious bean counter does not impress me, you old, useless, overpaid bitch."

The look on Availa's face was worth more to Tevos than the contents of her bank account. While it was true that she had considerable control over the purse strings of the republics, she could also be replaced. There were legions of intelligent, young, and loyal workers in the Revenue Department who would be all too happy to fill Availa's position. She had experience, but that wasn't everything. Sometimes she forgot that.

"Think about that before you call me back." said Tevos as she broke the connection. She had never taken her quarreling with the Chairwoman so far before. For a moment, she wondered if she had gone too far. Then the ship gave a slight lurch as it went to FTL. It reminded her of position she occupied, the power and responsibility that she wielded. No, she didn't need to fear the chairwoman. She was a Citadel Councilor, and she needn't fear anyone. Sometimes she forgot that.

"ORDER UP!" The plate had barely touched the counter when it was snatched away by a passing waiter. Dahl Fritt turned his attention to the next order, the order screen showed that it called for salmon steak with brussel sprouts, accented with lemon. An old Earth dish, then. Easy.

Dahl scuttled over to the open-flame stove and selected a pan from the overhanging rack. His chef's hat wobbled precariously on the top of his carapace as his "lesser-claw" blurred over to the sauce table and selected the best one for brussel sprouts. At the same time, his "greater-claw" reached into a nearby bin of live fish. With a snap of his claw, he lopped off the unfortunate fish's head, and started cleaning it. That's how it was done her at Fritt's Grill. You may pay more, you may wait longer, but the food was always as fresh as it gets.

Dahl Fritt loved his job. Ever since he was a tiny hatchling, he had always been fascinated by food. He honestly didn't understand why others weren't. Hundreds of cultures from three different species all spent thousands of years developing their cuisine. Who could ignore that treasure trove of culture and taste? Not him.

Dahl had opened Fritt's Grill almost eight years ago. The success of the restaurant had been instant and constant. The entire city ate at his restaurant. Rich and poor, young and old, drell, human, or atten, the people of New Lorraine knew good food when they saw it. Fritt was just beginning to sear the salmon onto a plank of rich hickory, when an distant voice rose over the constant cacophony of the kitchen.

"Chef Fritt? There's a guy over at table eight who wants to talk to ya." It was one of the waitresses.

"Customer?" Fritt bellowed, without turning his attention away from the salmon.

"Says he's an old pal of yours from school." Dahl stopped working and thought for a moment. Could it be him? No, he wasn't in New Lorraine. He said he was going to Shanxi. Still…

"Tell 'em I'll be right out." He shouted, wiping his greater claw off with a rag. He grabbed a passing cook.

"Finish this salmon n' brussels. Twist o' lime." The cook nodded and got to work immediately.

After straightening his chef's hat and changing into to clean apron, (Gotta look good for the customers.) Dahl walked out into the dining room. The atmosphere of the dining room was one of simple, intimate elegance. The dim lights, tile floor, and the soft, but fun music coming from somewhere all contributed to the mood. Guests ate, talked and laughed in a melody of different languages and topics. Fritt's Grill was as cosmopolitan as any Periphery republic or Federation capital.

After looking about for a few seconds, Dahl saw the man who asked for him standing by the main doors. He was tall and lanky, even for a human, and his short, dark hair stood straight up in a way that made him seem even taller. Dahl recognized him immediately.

"Scott Shaw!" He bellowed, startling a nearby family of drell. The human's head immediately whipped toward him, a grin decorating his rubbery human face.

"Dahl Fritt. You bastard, you really did it! Your own place!" The two advanced toward each other, Dahl's greater claw snapping in excitement, doing nothing to calm the family of drell. Scott gripped Dahl's lesser claw with one hand, and rested the palm of his other hand on Dahl's greater claw, a common greeting ritual between atten and non-atten.

"How long has it been since culinary school? Five years? Six? I thought you were bound for Shanxi!"

"I did! Lived the colony life, saw some nature, and sang some campfire songs. Ah, but the rustic life gets boring quickly. The appealing novelty of wild birds screeching throughout the night can wear off, believe it or not."

"Ha! From what you told me back in school, you weren't there to sleep during the night anyway, eh?" Dahl winked four of his eight eyes.

"Bah, colony girls are so damn serious. 'Oh Scott, we don't have time for sex, we have to set up the solar panels. Oh Scott, how can you be in the mood when three people were just killed by a wild animal? Oh Scott, what are you doing in my house? I told you to quit stalking me.' Nobody knows how to have fun in The Periphery." The two laughed.

"Ha! Well, you're back in the Federation where you belong. Come on, well talk in the back. Less noise."

Dahl led Scott back through the kitchens to a small, cramped excuse for an office that was rarely used, but somehow still overflowing with datapads and half-sketched pie-charts. Scott sat in a normal chair in front of the desk. Dahl's seat was standard for most atten. More of a smooth, ovular indent in the floor than anything else, about the size of a small hot tub.

"So," Asked Dahl once they had both sat, "What brings you to New Lorraine? You know there's a place for you here if you need a job." Scott shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his easy grin sliding away.

"That...uh...won't be necessary. I was uh... I was actually wondering if I could crash at your place for a few days while I get something figured out. No more than a week, I promise." Dahl thwacked his primary claw on the desk.

"Scott, of course you can! Stay as long as you need! Are you in some kind of trouble? I know a good lawyer."

"Nononono! Nothing like that. I just need to get my ducks in a row before I head on to greener pastures. A pit stop, if you will." Dahl clicked his mandibles in interest.

"Greener pastures, huh? That means 'something better,' right? Do tell!" Scott's grin slowly crawled back up his face.

"I got a job, Dahl. A good one. All those programming credits are finally paying off. I've got a job in Google's R&D lab on Mars." It can be difficult to tell if an atten is shocked, but Dahl was shocked.

"What? Google? Hey, that's great! Amazing! Where did this come from? I didn't know you were a programmer!" He stood and thumped around the room, snatching up up his personal effects.

"We gotta celebrate, Scott! I'll talk to the cooks, they can cover for me the rest of the night. You got a car? Doesn't matter, we'll take mine. NO! We'll take the air-metro because we'll be drunk within the hour. I know a great bar downtown, and, citywilling, we can be there in ten minutes flat!" Scott stood up and raised an eyebrow.

"Citywilling? Has New Lorraine woken since I left?" Now dressed in an standard atten cape and stylish hat to match, Dahl scuttled toward the door.

"Yes! Just a few months ago. I'm surprised you didn't see the signs! We can stop at the new temple if you want. You should meet the city if you'll be staying here a few days, anyway." Scott widened his near-permanent grin.

"Good idea. We can pray that help be sent if we pass out in the gutter."

Together, they hurried outside into the bustling streets of New Lorraine, their laughter echoing behind them.

_**Alliance Cities**_

In the year 2150 (Alliance Calendar), a police officer responding to a traffic accident in the city of Akna Chale reported strange occurrences regarding the automated disaster response system that were assisting her. The officer noticed that the traffic lights had turned red all along the street where the accident had occurred, which was normal. The automated lights were programmed to stop traffic in the event of an accident. The abnormalities started when the traffic lights up and down the street started changing colors again, instead of stopping traffic, it was directing it away from the accident, allowing emergency vehicles to access the scene more easily.

Things became even more peculiar when a bipedal tour robot from a nearby office complex exited the building and began assisting emergency personnel with extracting a man who was trapped in the wreck of his vehicle. When it became clear that the robot's servos, which were not designed to carry anything heavier than a food tray, could not provide any meaningful assistance, something even more extraordinary happened. The robot reached it's hand into the car, and held the hand of the trapped driver, doing it's best to comfort him. A nearby policeman, who was ordered to keep an eye on the robotic interloper, snapped a picture of this event, and it is one of the most recognized photos in Alliance space to this day.

By this time, the emergency personnel were extremely confused, and even a little bit frightened, but the robot was not getting in the way, so they were ordered to leave it alone. When the trapped driver was eventually extracted and flown to a nearby hospital, a mysterious automated market truck arrived and began distributing food and drinks to the paramedics and policemen. It was later reported that the hospital had an ER room reserved and a full report of the driver's injuries despite the paramedics having not yet sent any such report.

Completely at a loss, the Akna Chale authorities ordered a full diagnostic of the server banks in the areas of the accident, and those of the hospital. A suspiciously consistent code repetition was found. In an extended scan, the code was found in every server bank in the entire city, and even a few in the surrounding rural communities. The short version of the story is that at the city was so thoroughly augmented with public data storage, automated systems, and interconnected communications suits, that it had, at some point, become vaguely sentient. The city itself was alive. Within a few months nine other cities all over Alliance space reported similar occurrences. The tendency for Alliance cities to be so thickly equipped with high-tech analytical hardware made this phenomenon extremely common.

This revelation by the public caused large number of people to panic, but it soon became very clear that each city had the safety of it's citizens at "heart."

Unsure of what else to do the Federation government, and those of the Periphery simply let the cities be. Their newfound semi-sentience had increased productivity and decreased pollution in every single sentient city. This was not only due to the city itself. Many people started to look at the cities as a living reflection of themselves and the type of lives they were living. A noticeable and significant drop in littering and crime became the norm in sentient cities. It wasn't long before a religion was founded based around the idea of protecting, maintaining, and worshiping a citizen's respective city.

"Through serving the city, we serve the community, through serving the community, we serve each other." -Book of Urbia. Chapter 6, verse 3. Church of Urban Worship.

The actual worship of the cities was largely metaphorical. It was more of a code of conduct than an actual spiritual faith. People used the benefit of having a physical, tangible "god" watching over them, to strengthen their sense of community. The "Church of Urban Worship became extremely popular throughout the Alliance, and remains the single most popular religion in Alliance space to this day.

_**Alliance political situation:**_

When the Alliance Charter was signed by the humans, atten, and later by the drell, it did not form a single government, as one might think that it would. It simply stated that any government who signs it is treaty-bound to, among other things, defend the citizens and sovereignty of any other government which has signed the charter. This resulted in a politically united "center" of Alliance space, with a growing number of tiny solar republics and system-states forming around it's borders as more and more colonies were founded. The core systems are now known as the "Federation" and the colorful menagerie of small nations on the Federation's borders are broadly referred to as "The Periphery." Through a combination of treaties and political maneuvering, the Federation continuously and, usually peacefully, expands its territory by gobbling up small Periphery governments. The Federation can simply offer more stability and benefits than it's smaller counterparts, so convincing the inhabitants to join the Federation is usually a simple task. However, there are always those who prefer the risk and open air of colony life, so new, independent planets are continually settled, tamed, and eventually turned over to the Federation. This results in a constantly expanding Periphery, and a constantly expanding Federation. The two exist in relative harmony, which negates the necessity for any of the governments in play to maintain a large military. While this means that there is more capital left for schools, community works, and scientific ventures, it does mean that the Alliance as a whole is completely unprepared to wage war **on** a large scale.


End file.
